Chapter Text
Cipritine, Forimus Sublevel Apartment
Shepard held the photo in her hand, intently studying the woman who stared back. Dread licked at her heart, knowing that the girl from her dream watching back at her had some significance in her life outside of her mind; she just couldn’t figure out what.
She’d seen her before—she had to have. Viv’s new missive was figuring out just where she’d appeared. There were pieces of her old life that she buried, and she wasn’t looking forward to unearthing her history. That photo was placed there for a reason by somebody with far too much access to the Hierarchy, to be able to slip through security and hack into the apartment of Palaven’s highest governing official.
That conclusion limited the list of potential perpetrators, but it got Viv nowhere closer to figuring out just who this woman was. Stepping out of her analysis of the situation, Viv drew up her omni-tool and messaged Adrien right away.
[16:30 GST: Shepard, G.]
How long until you’re home? Some weird shit going on. No rush, but uh…yeah.
-V
Shepard shifted her weight, looking at the photo in her clammy hands once more as she waited for Adrien to respond.
---
Cipritine, Office of the Viceroy
Adrien looked to Garrus after showing him the array of datapads sectioned off for each turian colony for direct, secure communications with not only the other primarchs, but also ambassadors stationed at embassies across the galaxy, prominent members of both the Hierarchy itself as well as military leaders on Palaven and beyond.
As viceroy, Garrus would be taking on most military dealings as it was the best use of the expertise he developed as Reaper Adviser during the war and historically, a role that the second-in-command always took on. Where strategy and tactics were concerned the younger turian had clear, sure footing. It was the expansiveness of his responsibilities now that riddled his subvocals with unease.
“Questions so far, Viceroy?” Adrien heard his nerves loud and clear, and relayed assurance through his subharmonics as he spoke.
“Where do I start?” Garrus deadpanned. He fisted his talons a few times, fidgeting as he took in his new office.
Adrien chuffed in response and was about to speak when his omni-tool pinged with a message from Viv. Twitching a mandible, he looked up to Garrus who was perusing a datapad. The younger turian looked back up to the Primarch and asked, “Everything okay?”
“I think so, Viv said something strange is going on at the apartment,” he explained. “Need to grab a few things from my office before I head home, but you are more than welcome to follow me back. We were planning on drinks with Liara later anyway, and Viv was hoping you’d come along.”
“Yeah, sounds good,” Garrus confirmed. “I’ll finish up here and meet you guys over there before we head out.”
Adrien nodded curtly, letting the Viceroy continue acclimating to his new surroundings, his new life. He left Garrus’ office, moving down the hall to his own office to wrap up business for the day. He entered the access code on his omni-tool and the door slid open. Walking over to his desk, Adrien heard the doors close and ever the cautious turian, looked up to ensure that nobody had followed him inside. If Viv was unnerved, Adrien felt like he had to be on guard as well.
When he looked at the closed door, he noticed a white envelope taped to the inside. He spared a sidelong glance at it—most communications he received on the regular were digital, encrypted—someone had taken great care to place this envelope inside of the Primarch of Palaven’s office.
Adrien took tentative steps back toward the door, pulling the envelope off and ripping it open with an ungloved talon. Inside was a photo, a picture of a young turian male bearing Cipritine markings. One of his fringe spines was dented, though it was clear the male in the photo hadn’t seen much combat. He appeared to be fresh out of the Academy, little more than a fledgling. Grey eyes stared back, mandibles relaxed into a comfortable grin.
The kid looked happy, as content as a photo of a stranger was able to articulate. Adrien didn’t know the man—boy, perhaps—in the picture, but he knew the markings. He was from the area, of that Victus had no doubt.
He pulled up his ‘tool to return Viv’s message.
[16:42 GST: Victus, A.]
Leaving the office soon. Does your ‘weird shit,’ as you so eloquently put it, have anything to do with an envelope?
-A
Adrien hit send and slipped a few datapads into his bag, doing another quick once-over of his office to see if anything else was out of place. At a glance, it wasn’t—and that had to be good enough for now. His priority was getting home to his mate. He left in a hurry as he typed out a message to Forimus security, asking for feeds of anyone leaving or entering the area.
He could investigate more later.
---
Cipritine, Forimus Sublevel Apartment
Viv stood at the counter with a drink in hand, sipping on bourbon while looking at the photo, then back to the door. Adrien finally responded, and her heart thudded harder in her chest when she learned that he may have had something similar happen to him—from his message inquiring about an envelope, Viv could assemble those pieces together on her own.
Someone had left one for him, too. She responded:
[16:44 GST: Shepard, G.]
Yes, said weird shit involves an envelope. Now get your spiny ass home, ok?
-V
She hit send and took another swig, growing more nervous the longer she stared at the picture. Viv couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard she tried. Someone had invaded their space and had done so without she or Adrien’s consent. She hadn’t a clue as to who the perpetrator might be. Hopeful that Adrien might have further insights, all she could do was wait for him to get home. They’d do their best to figure it out together—they always did—but that notion didn’t abate the edgy tension that the breach of privacy and security caused.
At long last, Adrien walked into their apartment with concern lining his stern features. He all but ran over to Viv, taking her face between his hands as he gently brushed his talons over her sharp cheekbones.
“Are you okay?” He asked, searching her up and down for any sign of struggle as he rumbled soothingly.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, placing her hands over his before reaching down and picking the photo up from the counter. “Nobody was actually here.” She handed it to Adrien. “This was taped to the door.”
He brushed his brow to hers before taking the photo into his hands. He turned it over in his talons, inspecting the backside of it for any indication of who might have put it there and just like the one he found in his office—there was nothing.
He looked at the photo of the girl, then back to Viv before reaching into his bag and pulling out the envelope that he himself had received.
“This was taped to the inside of my office door.” He handed the image of the turian to Viv. “Do you recognize him from anywhere?”
She took it from him, studying it. “Never seen him before in my life,” she said. “Do you recognize the markings?”
“Cipritine,” he said. “But that’s about as far as I can tell. He looks young.”
“What the hell is going on here, Adrien?” She asked him, pulling up her glass for another sip, seeking the comfortable burn of liquid courage.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m concerned, because whoever placed these at our doors has far more access to us than what I am comfortable with. I requested the Forimus security vids from the area, so with any luck we’ll have something to go on soon. I will also put in a request to expedite the reconstruction of the villa, because clearly the security here isn’t enough. We require a full staff, and I am no longer willing to sacrifice our safety in the name of expediency.”
“Yeah,” Viv said, nodding. “It just seems so...innocuous. They’re only photos. But at the same time photos, Adrien? The idea just makes me uncomfortable. Who in the hell would have that kind of access, and what kind of message is this supposed to convey?”
“Unless you recognize either of these people, there is no way to understand the message until one, we figure out who these two are.” Adrien walked to the fridge and pulled out a dextro beer for himself. “Or two, the security vids give us some leads.” He cracked the bottle open and took a long pull.
Both photos sat side by side on the countertop. A human and a turian, so it wasn’t solely a Hierarchy concern. Were these two individuals connected in some way? Were they criminals, martyrs? Did they fight in the war, were they lost in it?
“Have you tried running the image through facial recognition on your omni-tool?” Viv asked him.
“This is a photograph, not a digital image,” Adrien said, shaking his head from side to side. “But it doesn’t hurt to try.”
Viv walked over, omni-tool poised to scan. As expected, the scan failed—as technology evolved, it didn’t keep up with the mediums of old and photos were even further back in turian history than they were in that of humans—they were a 15,000-year-old civilization, after all. Digital imaging had been the norm for them for literally centuries. There was no reason to believe scanning a photo such as this would work, but it didn’t hurt to try.
The effort was futile, getting them no closer to linking up any pieces of this puzzle. Viv however, hadn’t come completely clean. She was nervous about telling Adrien that she had seen the girl before, albeit in the ethereal throes of the dreams and nightmares that riddled her with restlessness.
“Adrien.” Viv’s voice was little more than a whisper. His mandibles twitched in acknowledgement, signaling her to continue.
“The girl, I’ve…” She took a sip, then looked him in the eye. “I’ve seen her, in a dream.”
Trilling in question, he met her gaze but didn’t interrupt. She continued, “That night, after our first time with Sparatus? My nightmare…changed. I’ve told you about it, the recurring one with the church?”
“Of course,” he confirmed. “It’s haunted you for some time.”
“Yeah,” Viv choked out in a half-laugh, humor at Adrien’s understatement. “But that night, it was different. Instead of some faceless ghoul pulling me out of it, it was that girl. The one in the photo.”
Adrien searched her face, looking for just what he didn’t know. He was concerned, fearful for their safety, and fearful for his mate. “And you have no idea where you might have seen her before?” Adrien reached a hand up to the side of her neck, brushing under her jawbone with his talons and shooting tingles up her spine, calming her down in ways he only knew how.
“Not a clue,” she said, eyelids sliding closed. She met his gaze again after releasing a deep exhale. “And I realize that for her to appear not just in my dream, but in a photo too means that I have seen her somewhere. I’ve just blocked out so much of my past that if she’d appeared during those times, at any point, it’s likely that I’ve just tucked it away. I just…I don’t know, and that terrifies me.”
He pulled Viv into his arms, enveloping her in his strength. “It scares me too, beautiful.” He nipped her forehead gently in a soft kiss, talons running through her hair and prickling at her scalp. She melted in his arms as the rumbling tones of his voice coursed through them both. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. You can count on that.”
Meeting his gaze, she gave him a quick kiss to his mouth plates and backed away, reaching for the bottle of booze, refilling her glass halfway. “I know we will.”
She downed the dark liquid in one gulp.
---
The Citadel, Council Offices
“I’ll not hear another word of this, Councilor,” Sparatus said, fuming. “You are to treat her with respect when you call in, if we ever allow you to sit in again.”
Linron glared back, visibly at a loss for what else to say. Sparatus had the highlights delivered to him by his assistant, and it didn’t take long to see that Councilor Linron had worn out her welcome early in the session. She’d never dare speak to Shepard that way with him in the room, and he was furious that Linron was under the impression that she could get away with it in his absence.
And if Victus had been there, they’d likely be looking for the salarian councilor’s replacement.
“I…lost sight of myself, Councilor,” a moping Linron spoke, lowly. “It will not happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.” Sparatus didn’t allow her another word, and promptly cut off the holo in much the same way that Shepard had done to him many years before. Linron was only in the other room and could march right over to his office if she wanted, but the intent was still there. Maybe he’d walk over just so he could shut the door in her face. He rumbled to himself, letting the frustration slip off as much as he could, then quietly laughed at the memory of he and Shepard’s heated conversations before the war.
Steeling himself for the mountains of reports he needed to complete before heading to his apartment, he left the comm room and slipped into his office. The kava maker he kept there beckoned and he walked over and started up a brew, idly checking his omni-tool while he waited. There was nothing that he hadn’t already been briefed on; he let out a sigh of relief that no further galactic crises were likely to arise before the end of his work day.
He poured a cup of the brew, savoring the smell before tipping the turian-style mug to his mouth. Sparatus swallowed and exhaled, letting the vapors and robust, nutty flavor wash over him, calming himself down after the altercation with the salarian as well as prepping for the work that lay ahead.
Walking to his desk, he did a quick scan of the office as one is apt to do, bracing himself for monotony—one of the cruelest tortures. Sparatus’ eyes shifted to the door where a single, white, square envelope was stuck to the inside. His mandibles twitched uncontrollably—most turians placed great value on personal space, and the fact that someone had invaded his got to him, instantly.
His eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, taking cautious steps toward his office door, sniffing the air and darting his gaze around to make sure nothing else was amiss, that the leaver of the message wasn’t hidden away in the room somewhere.
Confident he was alone, he pulled the envelope from the door and turned it over in his hands before slicing it open and pulling out a photograph—an image of a smiling asari, skin an Earth-sky blue, markings a dark violet.
It was a perplexing thing, really—such an old medium, he hadn’t held a photo in his hands in years and even the ones he’d seen in his lifetime were ancient. Turians had innovated beyond printed photos centuries ago.
They were archaic, a symbol of the old ways.
Sparatus had never seen the asari in his life, and if he had she clearly didn’t make a lasting impression. He got the sense that he needed to find this woman, that this message was intended to spark something. There were no further communications included in the envelope, and the vagueness of the intent behind this was unnerving on its own.
If some stranger expects me to writhe around in the dirt like a varren in heat, they are sorely mistaken.
He huffed at how ludicrous the whole thing was—a photo, old but not malevolent. Odd but not immediately threatening. What was this person getting at? This asari, who was she?
Still scrutinizing both the photo and ridiculous situation he found himself in, his attention was pulled when his omni-tool sounded with a message. Sparatus lifted his wrist to accept the message; Viv.
[18:12 PM GST: Shepard, G.]
Sorry I didn’t return your message earlier—catching up with Liara, I’m sure you understand. How are you? Adrien and I hope you can catch a break soon—once the villa is back in working order, we’d love to have you if only for a long weekend.
By the way, something odd is happening on this end. I’ll give you more details soon, but we may need your uh…resources, help us figure something out. We’re taking a trip back to the Citadel soon and we’ll fill you in then. Won’t have much time for social exchanges, but I’m sure that the Primarch and I can clear our schedules some for our favorite councilor.
Hope all is well, and we’ll be seeing you.
-V
[18:15 PM GST: Sparatus]
I figured as much. I’m well, mostly—and wanted to apologize for what happened today with our esteemed salarian councilor. It will not happen again, and if it does, well…we’ll deal with that then.
Something odd, you say? Same here, to be truthful. I’d rather not discuss it over comm, though—so about catching up. Please do let me know your plans during your stay on the station. I’ll make reservations.
I hope that your ‘something odd’ does not add to your addled sleep, and that you and Adrien are playing it safe. I will do the same. My gut tells me that something dark is coming, but I cannot be certain.
Take care of yourselves, and I’ll do my best to take care of mine.
He didn’t get an immediate reply, so he was resigned to getting actual work done, no more reasons to put it off further. He could investigate the photo, yes—but something deep at the base of Sparatus’ skull told him he wouldn’t like what he found. He had a bad, bad feeling twisting at his gizzard, but he couldn’t let that distract him now, with so little to go on.
He worked, late into the night. When he locked up his office, he snagged an extra heat sink just in case before he left to go home—one eye constantly glancing over his shoulder every step of the way.